You never know if there are more mad scientists in the world. Better ask Stacy first.
"I don't know if I can ask Stacy about it."
"Oh, okay?" She clipped the first section, and the lock slid down into her palm, glossy as satin rope. "So, how long ago were you adopted?"
"A couple of days, I think. Not that long." I have only been awake for a day.
"I see. You know she already has a daughter, right?"
"Yes, why are you saying it like that?" I was confused about why she asked me something like that.
"It's just that her other daughter does not like her very much for some reason. People say it is because she is a training freak that her daughter doesn't like her, but I think it has something to do with her previous life."
"Something to do with her previous life?"
"Ah, sorry, you maybe don't know about the reincarnates. They..."
"I know I am one of them as well."
"I see. What was your name?"
"Shiro Adachi."
"Aah, the teachers' pet." Getting depressed being called "teacher's pet" again. Lucy tapped her chin while thinking. "Wasn't Shiro a guy, though?"
"Can we please move on? I don't like being reminded about my past. Also, I wasn't a teacher's pet. I was antisocial, so people made things up about me."
"Haha." The scissors made a clean, satisfying sound. "Back to Stacy's daughter. Her name was Izumi Hitomi. For some reason, from a young age, she clung to her father every chance she got. I think she never would come to my store if her father didn't come with her."
"Izumi Hitomi. Hmm." That name reminded me of a girl who was known for her looks and ice queen personality. "I know her. She was the ice queen of our school. She was apparently very cold toward everyone."
"Apparently. I thought you were anti-social."
"I am, but with the number of rumors about her, it was hard not to know who she was."
"I see. Do you know why she is so attached to her father?"
"Yeah, it's most likely because she had two mothers. She never knew who her father was. That's all I can think of."
"Aah, I see. So she was adopted, most likely. All done, time to get your clothes." She said while tying my hair into a ponytail. A few wisps fell like deliberate accents; the rest lay sleek and heavy against my back, ending a little below my shoulders-lighter, sharper, somehow more like me. "You go into that room and undress. I will bring the clothes to you." She pointed to a door curtained with thick navy fabric.
"Okay." I slid off the chair and went where she pointed. The fitting room was small but not cramped: a bench, a mirror with a tilt bar, and a little rug soft enough that bare feet didn't flinch on the wooden floor. I undressed and stacked my clothes in a neat pile. My bandaged forearms looked almost ceremonial in the mirror-lines of black-and-red ink peeking above the wraps like something alive and patient.
A pair of knuckles tapped the frame. "Ready?" Lucy's voice.
"Yeah."
The curtain rustled, and a hanger sailed over the top like a messenger pigeon. "First set!"
I caught it one-handed.
Dress-up: Round One
Black trousers with a sharp crease, a charcoal button-down, and a thin tie striped red and white.
I pulled it on and stepped out. The shop's light came from a row of shaded fixtures that made all the fabrics look richer; in the mirror near the dressing room, I looked like I was about to charge someone a late fee.
Lucy planted a hand on her hip. "Banker. But make it murder."
Stacy squinted, then shook her head. "No. She looks like she will audit your soul."
I tugged at the tie until it surrendered and went back in.
Round Two
High-collar white shirt, dove-gray vest, and long black coat with a subtle dark-red lining when it moved. The boots Lucy slid under the curtain were soft at the ankle and quiet on the floor. Everything fit. No pulling, no pinching, just smooth alignment.
Out in the mirror, the coat swayed when I turned. It felt... good. Too respectable.
Lucy's eyes lit up. "Dashing!"
Stacy cocked her head. "She looks like a teacher who wins sword duels after class."
I made a noncommittal noise and went back in.
Round Three
A deep forest-green shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow with neat button tabs; black fitted trousers; a waist belt with a matte buckle. Lucy added fingerless gloves "for tone."
I stepped out, flexed my fingers, then closed one eye to test the look like it might change.
"Scout captain," Lucy declared.
"Bandit lieutenant," Stacy amended, deadpan. "Who taxes bridges at night?"
I smirked despite myself and disappeared behind the curtain.
Round Four
Crimson tunic with a diagonal fastening, black trousers, and a short travel cloak attached with a simple clasp. The fabric moved like water and didn't catch.
I turned once, fast. The cloak whispered.
Lucy clasped her hands. "Now you're a wandering swordswoman who has dramatic conversations with the moon."
Stacy nodded slowly. "We keep the cloak for a festival. Not for daily use. She'll end up using it to carry stolen bread."
I raised a hand over the curtain and gave a little "maybe" waggle before swapping again.
Round Five (Accessories Attack)
A simple black shirt and trousers-Lucy called it the "reset"-then she fed me accessories one by one: a chain at the belt, a narrow silver bangle, a leather wristband, and a pendant shaped like a tiny fox tail.
I stepped out.
"You look like you own a music tavern," Stacy said. "And like, you can beat up the bouncer."
Lucy tilted her head. "We're so close. She's sharp lines, not sparkle. Minimalist menace."
"Minimalist menace," I repeated, faintly amused, and ducked back.
Round Six (The One-That-Almost-Was)
Long charcoal coat with a high mandarin collar, black on black on black. The silhouette was as clean as a blade. When I stepped out, even I paused.
Lucy breathed, "Oh."
"Too much," Stacy decided after three seconds. "She looks like a myth. People won't sell her bread."
I returned to the changing room, half-reluctant, half-relieved.
Round Seven (Close, but no)
A black bomber-style jacket with subdued stitching, dark jeans, and a slate shirt. It was flexible, ready to run or fight.
Lucy's smile said yes.
Stacy's mouth pinched. "Not quite. She looks like she is about to steal a horse for fun."
Lucy snapped her fingers. "I have it."
Two heartbeats. A soft thump of hangers. Then-
Round Eight (Final)
The black leather jacket with sleeves that rolled to the elbow cleanly, a white shirt-not too bright, just enough contrast-black jeans that moved with me, and ankle boots with black and red detailing that echoed the lines of my bandages. Everything fit like it had been waiting for me to arrive.
I stepped out.
Even Stacy went still.
Lucy didn't say anything for a moment either. The shop hummed-the faint buzz of the street through the door, the whisper of fabric when the air shifted-but nobody spoke.
Then Lucy exhaled. "That."
Stacy's eyes swept me from top to bottom, measuring, weighing, and approving. Her tail made a small, satisfied flick. "That."
I turned once, checking how the jacket moved, how the shirt lay, and how the boots sounded. The mirror gave me back someone I would not pick a fight with in an alley: not a polished noble, not a runaway mercenary-something that stood on its own.
Lucy broke first, grinning. "We're adding one thing." She held up a black scarf stitched with slender red lines-the same one from earlier but steamed and fluffed. "You wore it in this morning, but now it belongs."
I looped it around my neck. The lines caught the light and echoed the ember-red in my hair and eyes. I looked like myself, sharpened.
"Keep that on," Stacy said, voice satisfied. "We'll do the final reveal properly. Back in. We'll make her wait."
I snorted but obeyed. Because I agreed.
(Stacy's POV)
I have been waiting for an hour already. I was sitting just outside of the dressing room Kitsuna was using. Thinking back at her status I saw this morning, I thought about how I should train her. It was important to get her at least halfway to elite knight status so she could stop herself from becoming a slave for the kingdom. The best part about her is her curses. She can get so strong before she gets a class. I forgot to tell her that you need to be level 50 to get a proper class. I will have to talk about that later. But I want her to become strong before she has to go back to the capital.
She asked me to teach her about every weapon there is. Thinking back to my childhood, my father did tell me about a legendary class called Weapon Master. He said that I need to master every weapon there is if I want this class. I tried doing it in the beginning, but when I joined the academy, everyone already had their classes, so I gave in and got the class I have now. Dual Assassin (Berserker). Thinking of how happy I was getting an exotic class and having Berserker with it-that made it close to a legendary class. Everyone praised me, even my dad, although he was a bit disappointed in me giving up on Weapon Master. He was still very proud of me. I still promised him that I would master every weapon, and I did that, but sadly, he died.
I rubbed the scar along my forearm-old training accident, old lesson. Kitsuna wanted blades, bows, staffs, chains-everything. Good. I could give her everything. And if she chased that class I never reached, I would be the hands that set the rungs for her climb.
Hearing the door open in front of me, I saw Lucy walking out with a grin on her face.
"Milady, are you ready to see your daughter?"
"That took you ages, Lucy. Just bring her out already." I whined, only half faking it.
"As you wish." She smiled and opened the door, completely revealing Kitsuna.
The first thought that went through my head was "dangerously handsome." She had long bangs on the side of her face, with the rest of her hair in a ponytail. She was smiling at me so I could see her large canine teeth. She was wearing a black leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Showing her bandages around her arms that fit with her look, oddly enough. She had a white shirt on with black jeans and black and red ankle boots. All that was really missing was the scarf she got herself this morning.
"Put on your scarf," I told her to put it on.
"That's true. Put it on." Lucy also agreed.
Going back into the room she came from, she came back with it on. The scarf's thin red stitch lines caught the light in a way that mirrored the ember in her hair and the red ring to her eyes. The ensemble clicked into something whole.
"It's confirmed you look like the most dangerous person I have ever met. That is why we need to get you a class that fits with your looks." Her looks made me resolve to make her a legendary class wielder.
"That's good to hear, I think." Kitsuna tilted her head.
Sorry for the late chapter. I broke my leg again today.
TheRealSkolliecreators' thoughts
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Chapter 8:
"Of course it's good. I, one of the strongest people in the kingdom, am going to teach you everything I know."
"Is that so?" I said, more dry than impressed, though, yeah, a little surprised. A lot of people claimed strength. Stacy said it like a weather report.
"This is a clothing store. Please don't talk about combat here. Go to the smithy for that," Lucy interjected, sliding between us with a measuring tape looped around her neck like a scarf. The glint in her eyes said she'd happily evict both of us if we started discussing dismemberment next to her silk display.
"Sorry, Lucy, but can you ring us up?" Stacy lifted both hands in truce. "I want to go to Steve. Need to talk to him."
"Fine. Come visit again, Onee-sama," Lucy said with a smile that softened her scolding. She swept behind the counter, the bell on her scissors chiming faintly as she moved.
The next few minutes were a soft blur of paper and string. Lucy folded and refolded the clothes with a speed that felt like a magic trick-jacket sleeves tucked just so, shirts rolled instead of creased to save the seams, boots nested heel-to-toe in tissue. Each bundle got a wax-paper wrap and a tie of red twine. She packed everything into stout canvas bags stamped with a tiny fox emblem I hadn't noticed on the sign. Every so often she glanced up, checking the set of my scarf or the way my ponytail lay against the jacket collar, nudging things into place the way a good craftsman can't help doing.
When we finally stepped back into the street, the bell over the door sang a short goodbye. The afternoon had brightened while we were inside; the sun sat higher and threw white light down the stone street, bouncing off windows and turning the dust into glitter. The road outside Lucy's shop squeezed into a small square where three lanes met; a fountain burbled in the center, ringed by a low stone lip where children balanced and failed to balance. The stalls around us buzzed-spiced meat smoking on skewers, a woman selling combs shaped like leaves, and a cart piled with brass hinges and locks clinking as the wheel hit a rut.
Walking out of the store with a lot of bags in our hands.
"She really tried to drag me out with all the clothes she got you," Stacy said, shifting the weight from one arm to the other. Her tail flicked with the motion, amused and put-upon at the same time.
"Yeah, there are like ninety different sets of clothes." I looked down at the handles digging into my fingers. The canvas creaked quietly under the strain. "I think she hid a curtain in here just to see if I'd notice."
"Can't you put all this in your Dimensional Storage?"
"I don't know how to use that." I gave her a deadpan look over the top of my scarf. I'd only just learned to make the status panel listen to me. Fancy pocket dimensions weren't exactly intuitive.
"Just think of the skill and pour mana outwards."
"I don't know how to do that, Stacy."
"Fine, come here." She put the bags down and reached to tap two fingers against the center of my forehead. "I will give you some knowledge so you can use your skill."
I stared at her hand like it had grown a second hand. "How does that work?"
"You know that I told you I don't have an element, right?"
Nodding, I said, "Yeah, that's why you can't help me with magic."
"Well, it is true I don't have an element, but I have a skill that can work with souls and memories."
The square seemed to hush around the edges of that sentence. Or maybe the hush was just inside my head. Either way, the words slid under my skin in a familiar, unwelcome direction.
"Stacy, is that how you knew I was a reincarnation?" I asked. Her ears flicked back, just a fraction, before she nodded-slow, measuring, like she was approaching a skittish animal.
